early sunrise mornings,

>>> del autocomplete

 

DELTA_4522 log #276

It’s seven fifty two and I know he’s going to be here in forty two minutes, give or take 126 seconds. He would be panting when he approaches me, when I rattle off to-do lists and tasks to complete back at him. I deduced that he is doing so because the schedule on the wall says that I should start my work by eight thirty but sometimes it takes until eight thirty two for me to finish my initial diagnosis. 

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Lateness is not a concept I understand but neither is being early. The desire to fall in line with a schedule compounded with the innate unpredictability of human beings that makes them consistently fail at doing so is not something that I ever had to worry about. People always want more, always want to know more, constantly in the run for the pursuit of something, someone, even when there’s so little time, so little of everything they could do. My whole life, if you could call it that, I’ve been told what the next step is, what my end goal is. 

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What I do not understand then,

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is why I now want more.

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Why is completion suddenly not enough for me? Why do I find myself asking, “wait, is that it?” when the numbers churn out the report I’ve been tasked with? I suddenly want to be better, faster, gather more data until I collect myself in a whirlwind, until I’m invincible and dig deep enough to find out the secrets of the universe. 

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But, this is what people feel like.

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I know he does. I see the comments he makes on the documents I return to him. Everyone gets more done when I’m faster, when I’m more accurate, so it’s only normal to gravitate towards that, right?